


100 Days A Slave

by SiennaValentine



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Gen, Masturbation, Mind Control, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Power Dynamics, Sexual Content, Survival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-05-18 12:55:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 17,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14853167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiennaValentine/pseuds/SiennaValentine
Summary: Entries from Jill Valentine's incarceration.





	1. Chapter 1

 

Day 61

 

“Sit here.” Wesker pats the empty space next to him in the limousine. Jill heeds his command and promptly situates herself.

“Lie down.” He says next.

Her body folds at his will, curling into a fetal position. She rests her head on his lap. 

He neither strokes her hair nor touches her.

She stares at the elegant decanter, watches the amber liquid sway inside its crystal case with every bump on the road. 

Approximately half an hour until they reach the airport. The material of his pants is like a snake's skin, cool against her cheek. 

She shifts. His breath catches.

He’s hard against her nape.

 

Day 11

 

She can't feel her legs.

"It's normal." He says in the background. "You've been inside the cryostatis for..." She hears the rustle of paper. "Over seven hundred days."

A minute ago her legs gave out. And she toppled like a house of cards.

"Rehabilitation will take time." 

She stays sprawled, helpless like a sack of rice. 

He lets out an audible sigh, before he's lowering himself to her level.

One of his arms worms its way under her knees. The other stretches across her back. He easily lifts her off the floor.

Goosebumps erupt all over her skin.

Did he carry her the same way the night she died?

 

Day 41

 

"Remove the slip, Ms. Valentine." The scientist says  _exactly_  ten seconds after she is injected with the drug. 

She has been expecting it. He has observed her with more interest than the others. She has expected it from the tremble of his hands earlier, from the way his knee bounced when he asked the assistants to leave.

She discards the thin gown, and stands in the middle of the lab as directed.

Her nipples harden with the ice cold air circulating in the room.

He circles her, like a vulture. Hungry beady eyes and greedy hands.

She expects him to grab her breast or squeeze her ass, or maybe kiss her with that usually foul mouth. 

He steps in front of her. And she smells aftershave and the coffee candy melting on his tongue.

He touches her over the panties, presses where it matters.

 

Day 41 (after tests)

 

Maybe he needs an Advil, she thinks as Wesker takes the sunglasses off. His face is twisted into a grimace. Is it because of disgust or disapproval?

She adjusts on the couch. It's uncomfortable to sit around without underwear, the fabric just sticks to her skin.

"Get inside!" He barks suddenly, pointing at the bathroom.

"Wash up." 

"I can smell you."

He spits the words out, acts like it's her fault he's agitated.

She knows he can smell the moist heat between her legs, knows he's erect the moment she stepped into the room.  _Sick bastard_.

 

Day 81

 

"Be quick." He hands her a syringe of PG67A/W. Excella is on an errand, turning over the role of nurse to the marionette.

He actually grits his teeth when the needle slides in, as if he's hurting.

She disposes of the injection once done. And he hands her another.

Her mind stops for a second to ask  _why_. But her hand hastily takes the order and executes it.

He requires precise doses, anything besides that is...? 

She's about to find out.

 

Day 81 (after tests)

 

The bastard has voluntarily poisoned himself.

She's almost glad she's currently incapable of expressing glee. 

She's in hysterics inside, drowning in maniacal laughter that doesn't end.

 

Day 41 (after dark)

 

"You can't threaten me!" 

"I've been with Tricell for twenty years! They're to reward my loyalty—!"

"Who says anything about threats."

It doesn't even last for a fucking second.

Just a snap. Like a camera's shutter.

The doctor collapses, neck broken, his head lolls on the ground, like those little dogs placed on the dashboard - bobbing away as you drive.

She eyes his lifeless fingers, remembers the orgasm that drenched them.

 

Day 81 (after dark)

 

Wesker crawls on the concrete, drool spilling over his thin lips. He claws on his chest, on his neck, on his face. Skin tears and flesh bleeds.

His eyes pulse red. 

_Does he need help?_

The P30 can't read minds. Her chest plate merely thrums.

He climbs on the sofa, writhes for another hour, until his head settles on her lap and he falls asleep.

 

Day 21

 

It's the first time she sees her reflection. 

Dead blue eyes. Hair almost white. Skin like dishwater.

She thinks of screaming at the sight. She thinks of shattering the mirror in rage. She thinks of throwing herself on the floor in disbelief.

But she blinks and sees the pulse on her neck.

Strong beats of her heart.

Steady breaths. Mended body.

She focuses on surviving. A cornered animal like her is the most dangerous kind.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Day 91

 

Irving smokes as she drives, whistles to some obscure tune, takes gulps from his sterling hipflask.

"Have you seen  _Uroboros_?" He shakes the container, hears the telling last drops of his Hennessy. "What is it even? It's all tentacles and black slime!" 

He slams a hand on the dash.

"I'm not stupid!" 

She thinks he's drunk.

"And you're definitely not mute!" 

Her boot dips on the gas pedal. 

"Excella does nothing but sit pretty. I'm the one doing everything here! Dealing, selling, making money for this shit show!"

"And  _you_?" His eyes rake over her.

All men want what they can't get.

He sinks in his seat and howls at the moon.

 

Day 31

 

They say the red liquid is for her bones and muscles.

The needle feels larger and longer. She screws her eyes shut.  _It hurts_. The injection site throbs. She waits, stares at the blinding fluorescent. 

It continues to ache.

They start removing the straps on her wrists and ankles. She's confused by the action. Her last attempt got her close  _outside_ , got her as far as the caverns.

Did they forget about that?  _Did he?_

"Follow me, Jill."

She only realizes it when they've reached the surface, when the sun rays are burning her skin - along with her sanity.

 

Day 01

 

"Vitals are stable... lost of pigment... possible atrophy on leg muscles..."

"No signs of the t-Virus." 

She opens her eyes. White dots litter her sight, she can't see through them.

"She's awake, Sir." 

Heavy footsteps reach her ears. The white dots scatter like ants, making way to a long blur of black.

"She can't see." A gravely voice scratches on her ears, disappointed.

She feels cold like she's naked inside a freezer.

"Her sight will adjust. It might take time."  

It takes a damn long while. But he has always been a patient monster. And her tears soon reward him.

 

Day 51

 

It's been ten days. Excella's still crossed about her dead ex-lover.

Who would fuck her now? Apparently not Wesker.

" _Porca miseria!_ " She drops a fountain pen and shoots Jill a glare. "Pick it up!" She snaps through a curled lip, words dragged along by her accent.

Jill grabs the pen.

It's probably broken, she thinks when ink bleeds out from the tip. The tip's pointed enough, she takes note before placing the pen back on the desk.

Excella looks different in a lab coat and a pair of black-rimmed eyeglasses.

Jill wonders if her lip will remain curled  _if_  she stabs her with the fancy pen. Maybe the shock will make it slacken.

 _Tomorrow_ , she promises. No one has noticed the hole in her doses.

 

Day 71

 

"This is a surprise." Jessica chews a gum pinker than her tongue. She blows a bubble, lets it pop. It leaves a pink splatter that sticks on the edges of her mouth.

It looks like a condom exploded on her glossed lips. 

Jessica is  _worse_  than Excella. She knows the Jill before, the BSAA founder. Clean slate. Good girl. That gives Jessica rights to construct assumptions,  _judgements_.

"How much are they paying you?" Jessica leans closer. "How much does he fuck you?"

She makes a sad dog face.

"Poor Chris. He must be heartbroken."

"Nothing tops this betrayal, Jill.  _Nothing_."

In her mind, she chokes the laughter out of Jessica Sherawat, just like how Albert Wesker taught her.

 

 Day 51 (cont.)

 

It's been ten days. Wesker's been quite upset about being subjected to  _basic.human_. _instinct_.

She bets he smells Excella too, that intoxicating scent laced with strong and expensive perfume.

Apparently, he's not interested.

He salivates over her cunt instead. He tongues her clit, plainly eats her out.

Jill thinks he thinks she's worthy of his attention, after her antibodies birthed his dream virus.

She also thinks he thinks  _sex_ can tear her apart.

He didn't even drug her. Is he waiting for her to _cry_ for having her pussy worshipped?

Pathetic.

 

Day 51 (continuing)

 

She bites him hard between his shoulder and neck. He ruts deeper and harder inside of her.

She drags her nails down the sinewy muscles on his back. His thrusts quicken then falter. 

"You're hurting me..." She manages a whimper, encourages his conquest. 

Wesker is the _worst_. He knows the Jill from before, STARS rear security officer. Champion of justice. The Captain's favorite. That gives him rights to construct familiarity and fantasies.

She lies beneath him to _destroy_ him.

 

Day 91 (cont.)

 

"He is on his way. Do you remember him?"

"Chris."

"You are to kill your partner. Do you remember how?"

"Yes."

Wesker nods once, pleased with her answers. He observes the scarab on her chest. 

"Does the plate hurt?"

"Yes."

He takes out the control, lowers her dose. The plate still hurts her. It's the wires not the drug. The mechanical claws are there to imprison, to serve as a reminder.

She unzips the battlesuit open, slithers out of the sweat-soaked second skin, slowly presents her porcelain curves.

A moon that wanes for a false god.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

Day 82

 

"You will  _not_  breathe a word of it."

There's a sting in her eyes. She was up all night, treated as part of the furniture.

"We'll try again tomorrow."

There's a numbness on her legs. He was  _heavy_ , unpleasant like a kicking and screaming child.

He sighs, runs his hands down his face like he's  _so done_  with the world.

She thinks he looks strange like that,  _extra_  strange with unruly hair and torn clothes.

His frame shudders when he takes that one big breath.

"Do you understand,  _Valentine_?"

"Yes, Sir."

He rakes his fingers over his blond hair, smooths the strands to their signature look, brings the _devil_ back.

 

Day 62

 

Four hours into the flight, Wesker issues the same instruction.

She's not up for lying down for another ten hours - with him poking hard at the back of her head.

So she sits as asked, lies down on the leather seat, props her bare feet on his thigh.

He can always try to be  _more_  specific.

She sees a fine brow rise over the rim of his shades, before he stoically accepts the current arrangement.

Her fingers touch the protruding plate on her chest, newly installed the other day.

She scratches around a wire, scratches until her skin is on fire.

 

Day 12

 

The injection falls on the floor, rolls and clinks as it hits a steel cabinet.

Wesker doesn't bother to pick it up. He merely prepares a new syringe.

He places a hand on her left thigh _again_. She grinds her teeth together at the feel of his nitrile gloves.

Alcohol's applied to the site. It's left to dry.

Two of his fingers stretch her skin.

She holds her breath.The needle penetrates her flesh. 

She shuts her eyes close. A single tear streaks its way down her cheek.

He leans closer than before, studies the authenticity of her emotion.

 

Day 42

 

Excella's old-fashioned for a modern girl.

The eighth lash bites, cuts through the drug's tolerance. The following lash bites  _more_ , carves Jill's back in a sharp arch.

She retains the position given: on her knees, arms spread apart, body offered as sacrifice.

The whip kisses her skin in quick succession.

Swift touches that open her flesh.

Fast slaps that deliver her blood.

Excella huffs, gathers the bloodstained leather with shaking hands.

She's nowhere near gratified.

Her face is red, her mascara's running, her foundation's melting.

Excella glares daggers, utters  _troia!_  over and over through gritted perfect teeth.

A little slut got her lover killed.

 

Day 62 (MHC)

 

Jill wiggles, stretches her legs, relieves a certain cramp.

They've stayed in that position for over an hour.

She stretches some more, throws her arms over her head, pops her shoulders.

A foot digs into his thigh.

Wesker catches her ankle, keeps it in place with an iron grip.

His heat seeps through the gloves.

She works on the knots knitted at her lower back. Her whole body undulates.

A greater heat seeps through his tight pants.

She bites her lower lip. His jaw clenches.

She takes a single shallow breath, traces his erection with her toes, watches him get arrested with want.

 

Day 42 (recovery)

 

Antiseptic cream and bandages. She hopes Tricell can provide more than that. With the P30 dried up, her back feels  _more than_  inflamed.

 _Hydrocodone_. She reads the label of an orange bottle on the nightstand.

Wesker steps in her line of sight. He takes the tube, opens it, lets a tablet fall on his palm.

He pushes the white pellet between her lips. She sticks her tongue out for a taste.

Too bitter.

His fingers press harder against the barrier of her teeth.

She relents, opens her mouth to the medicine.

 _Too bitter_. She wants to throw up.

"Swallow."

She coats the pill with her spit and swallows. 

 

Day 22

 

" _È amore_?" Excella asks, trimmed brow raised, manicured hands on her hips. She taps her pointed shoe on the floor, narrows her eyes at her partner assisting a test subject.

Jill deliberately trips. Her fingers claw on his shirt. Her breaths short on his shoulder.

" _Sei innamorato di lei?_ " Excella's voice rises to a shrill sound.

"I've got no time for your nonsense." Wesker snaps, arm loosely wrapped around Jill's waist.

Excella stomps out of the laboratory.

Jill loops her arms around his neck. She stands on her tiptoes, strains her legs.

She licks her lips, stares at his mouth, tempts him to something he can  _try_  to take.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> È amore? = Is it love?  
> Sei innamorato di lei? = Are you in love with her?  
> troia = sow/slut/bitch


	4. Chapter 4

 

Day 92

 

She sees the sky blue on his patch. Through the steel mask's red lenses it appears more of a dark purple.

Just like her suit.

He has a green bandanna wrapped around his head. He's issuing orders to soldiers.

A leader now.

_Keith!_

That close, she feels like calling out to him. But if he sees her then she would have to  _kill_  him.

Her earpiece crackles. Like sandpaper over concrete.

"Head to their West branch." Wesker's voice sears through the static.

The BSAA's East African Headquarters is spared for the day.

 

Day 02

 

She can't move her arms and legs. She feels floating on that mattress.

Machines surround her, like sentinels ensuring her descent.

A sob breaks out of her throat.

"Are you in pain?" Wesker mocks the tears, presses buttons on some console.

The screen's blue glow highlights the cruel lines on his face.

"What are you going to do..." Her voice cracks. Her words trail off. "... with me?"

He looms over her. His white coat brushes the edge of her bed. He smells clean, like a fresh orange.

"You've given me something precious, Valentine."

He traces her cheek with a finger.

"It's the only reason you get to retain this pretty face."

  

Day 52

 

She sits on the ottoman, feels the slick that accumulated between her legs.

She thinks she can get an infection.

From not peeing after all that sex. To more complicated ones because  _he.is.not.human_.

She remembers that she'll try to eliminate Excella that day.

"Are we done?" She asks. Her fingers pick at the duvet.

He groans under the blanket. The muscles on his shoulders and arms flex as he pushes himself on his back.

Cat-like eyes stare at her nudity. Sated but appraising.

Her stomach tightens.

She gets up to leave.

"Come back here."

He fishes an injection from the bedside drawer.

"I don't need that anymore."

"That's for me to decide."

  

Day 72

 

The outfit is thin. She notices before tying the knot at the back of her nape.

Her chest plate winks beneath the sheer fabric. Red orange just clashes with her abnormal coloring.

"You didn't have to come along." The drug stings her inside, like an angry hornet. "I know what I have to do."

Wesker places a box on the king bed.

She checks it out, finds a Beretta inside. It's a limited edition, complete with engravings.

A unique weapon to replace her Samurai Edge lost in the estate.

She points the gun at him.

He smiles. Devious.

 

Day 52

 

She looks over herself on the floor length mirror.

He steps behind her, as naked as she is.

 _This is where he'll promise her the world_.

Based on dreamy songs and far-fetched stories.

Wesker's as imposing as he was in STARS.

Maybe even more.

The superiority's a hot factor before. She recalls giggling with Rebecca inside the supplies room.

But he's so rotten now that it's just disgusting.

"This is evolution, Jill." He whispers on her shoulder. "Only those fit for survival will live."

She can't see why he can't see his plan is bullshit.

 

Day 32

 

She has him pinned beneath her weight.

She has her fingers tight around his throat.

The P30's astonishing. Her abilities are heightened, made  _superhuman_.

She can  _fight_   _him_.

Same speed. Same power.

She's _his equal_.

Her nails sink into his skin.

He hisses. She blinks and he has her thrown on the opposite wall.

He's on her before she opens her eyes.

There's blood on the corner of his mouth. Another trickle down his nose.

The eyeglasses had been crushed earlier. His snake eyes openly evaluate her.

" _Outstanding_." He breathes before she tastes metal on his lips.

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

Day 13

 

_"How does he take his coffee?" Rebecca asked. A curious mouse. Only a week old in STARS._

_"This is Americano, isn't it? Double? Triple shot?"_

_Jill looked at the white cup clasped carefully in the rookie's small hands._

_"What makes you say that?"_

_A blush spread over the cheeks of one Officer Chambers. Jill smiled knowingly, hid it by turning back to the inventory check she'd been tasked with._

_"H-He..." Rebecca cleared her throat. "Captain Wesker looks like he needs strong hits of caffeine. He works late nights all the time... right?"_

_"He takes it with milk, Rebecca. Doesn't like it hot. He doesn't like it iced either."_

_Jill ticked boxes on her sheet of paper._

_"Now give that to the Captain before his mood sours."_

 

Day 63

 

He grabs her breasts, squeezes until they nearly hurt.

His thrusts are brutal, jars the entirety of her.

 _Surely_  something would have broken if it isn't for the jeweled plate nestled between her collarbones.

She places a palm over it, feels it hum and glow in the dark bedroom.

The wires crawling under her skin groan, whine beneath the rough pace of their fucking.

She catches a grimace on his face.

He suddenly pulls out, rolls her on her belly.

His grotesque length slides along her slick skin, pulsates in the rhythm of their breathing.

His breath's too wet and hot against the crook of her neck when he slips back _in_.

He feels larger, just thicker. A flutter settles in her stomach.

The pace is slower.

Heavier.

 

Day 23

 

She eyes the 10 inch pizza before her, counts 6 slices.

A strong odor clashes with the sweet hints of honey and red bell peppers, like the scent of sage or oregano.

She takes a portion, bites into the classic blend of pepperoni and cheeses. Moans.

Bite. Chew. Swallow.  _Repeat_.

She's surprised when she finished the first one.

She steals another slice.

Then another.

She takes a break after the fourth one, washes the saltiness stuck in her throat with iced tea.

He contently watches the increase in her appetite.

She's content with rebuilding her strength.

 

Day 43

 

"He didn't fuck me."

"Maybe he would try another time."

"But he didn't fuck me."

" _You overreacted._ "

It's difficult to talk face down. Her chest is pressed too tight on the mattress.

She can feel the gauze sponges over the lashes on her back. They stick uncomfortably onto torn skin. The mixture of her blood, sweat, and other secretions produces a pungent smell.

Is he deliberately leaving the wounds to fester? _Is he letting her rot?_

He wrenches her off the bed. She winces.

Her arm feels almost dislocated.

"You think you can fuck your way  _out of here_ , Valentine?"

"Like how you fucked your way into the Army..." He pulls her close. Something not too sweet emanates from him - lavender.

"Then into STARS?"

 

Day 63

 

"Yes, there..."

"Harder..."

She chants against the Egyptian cotton.

He's on his knees behind her. His thrusts have turned eager with just the tinge of desperation.

It feels so damn good.

She drools on the high quality sheets.

_Why does he fuck so good?_

Her toes curl. Her fingers rip into expensive fabric.

She comes, shudders like a junkie.

He doesn't stop thrusting.

"Yes..." She hisses. "More..." She praises.

He slams his hips flushed against hers.

Stills.

His fingers mark the curves of her waist. Bursts of too warm semen flood her walls.

He hardly suppresses a growl, makes her come again... and again.

 

Day 13

 

She wakes to the smell of coffee.

Her mouth waters.

A plate of buttered toasts sits on the side table.

Her tongue swipes at the back of her teeth.

She reaches for a piece.

The cuffs securing her on the bed's rails clink noisily.

She pushes herself up to rest against the pillows, nibbles on the warm bread.

He places a short glass next to the plate. She studies the creamy brown liquid inside it.

Equal parts of frothy milk and espresso.

He remembers.

 

Day 83

 

One booster shot too many.

The effects are pretty much the same. He tears himself apart, she watches him writhe.

He settles down sooner than the first time.

He instructs her to fill the tub with freezing water.

She complies, adds ice cubes for good measure, hauls him into the bath.

"Join me." He rasps through chattering teeth.

His lids are heavy, red eyes barely open. 

She steps into the tub. Her knees knock on the cast iron walls.

The cold immediately stabs her. But she adjusts to the demand as always.

He spreads her legs with sluggish movements, crawls between them.

His head's an added weight to the steel on her chest.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for comments and kudos


	6. Chapter 6

 

Day 93

 

"Follow proper disposal." She says to a group of five Majini.

Every one of them tries to spout something coherent.

But all efforts end in a garbled mess, highlighted with the Plagas sprouting from their infected mouths.

One shows resistance, aggressively steps forward. The teethed petals snap at her.

"Follow proper disposal." She repeats, takes her Uzis from their holsters.

The jewel on her chest glows.

They scamper, surely reminded of what her glimmering collar entails.

She watches them pile into the observation room.

She watches them try to leash the Uroboros.

She watches them die.

 

Day 73

 

The longer she stares at the Mediterranean, the wider it stretches into the horizon.

She squints.

The blue water sparkles and hurts her eyes under that glaring day light.

"Get back inside." Wesker says from the chair next to the glass sliding door.

She steps back into the forty square meter room, bumps with his knee on her way in.

 _40m²_  is a little too suffocating for enhanced humans like them.

They've yet to do anything for that day.

Sitting around feels hazardous.

If only Irving's  _capable_  of fast transactions...

She throws the closet open, tries to find an attire that will cover the jeweled plate enough.

She brings out something made of chiffon, sheer and black.

"Wear that." He says, just impatient.

"And get on the bed."

 

Day 33

 

She cowers in a corner. She clutches her head and howls like an animal.

The drug pokes and pokes and  _pokes_.

Taunts her to madness.

She scratches on her skin. She scratches until the layer of tissue peels.

Jill leaves herself bleeding in places.

Her reflection on the two-way glass is feral.

Blue eyes eclipsed with something deadly. Drool frothing in her mouth.

She cries then growls. She throws herself on the glass until a part of her body breaks.

She rages.

They observe and evaluate variables behind the glass and the charts.

She wonders what they would do if the next testing kills her.

 

Day 53

 

"He'll  _tire_  of you soon." Excella exudes an entertaining kind of bitterness, Jill concludes.

She has been taken to a luxury house, the one Tricell's top researchers retreat to every now and then.

The place is pretty quaint with its toned down colors, easily blends with the thicket surrounding it.

She's alerted by the click of Excella's heels.

The woman stands straight before her, left hand on hip, a glass of red wine in her right hand.

Jill battles the reflex that rose in her as the liquid's poured over her head.

It's chilled and sticky. She smells earth and sweet spices.

Excella looks pleased as she's drenched.

Jill closes her eyes, licks her lips, tastes plums and cherries.

 

Day 73

 

There's supposed to be something  _under_.

She thinks he likes her clothed but still technically naked.

He gropes her, plays with her tits as she lies still on the bed.

The wires burrowed in her protest as he squeezes and shakes her globes of fat and flesh.

He sucks a nipple through the fabric, worries the peak with his sharp teeth.

He suckles until she's unbearably sore. 

Jill soon feels him straddle her torso, hears him unbuckling and unzipping.

His cock throbs in between her breasts, eagerly dribbling with pre-ejaculate.

He mashes her teats together, thrusts in that petal-like softness.

He uses her until he comes all over her face and chest. His fluid clings on her skin, hot and sticky.

She feels dirty. She hates it. 

But her weeping pussy says otherwise.

 

Day 03

 

_"We've gone over this."_

_"No marriage or children until Spencer and Wesker are dealt with."_

_She deposited the dirty dishes in the sink, knocked her favorite mug over._

_It broke. The handle detached from the body like a bone._

_She whirled around to see Chris, saw the stubborn look on his face._

_Her irritation spiked up._

_"We're not getting any younger, Jill."_

_"The sooner we start a family, the better. I can stay in the field alone and continue this hunt."_

_"I just want you safe, away from this, away from him."_

_"I'm sorry, Chris. But this works both ways."_

_She picked the velvet box on the table._

_Spared the diamond a single glance._

_Closed the black box._

_"I won't lose you to this, to **him**."_

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

Day 64

 

" _Valerie Johnson_ ". " _Val_ " for short. Fascinating information written on her fake passport.

She closes the pass, admires the navy cover.

A citizen of the United States still.

She goes through the blue pages, counts the stamps in her head.

Valerie has gone to some wonderful places.

How does that '80s song go again?

_"I've been to paradise..._

_But never been to me..."_

She throws the document on the coffee table, looks around the red and gold suite. She recalls them landing at Istanbul Atatürk Airport.

Why are they there again?

The P30 constantly threatens her memories.

She sees " _Wes_ ", what a stupid alias, step out of his room.

He wears a rich crimson robe, the ties are loose, nothing underneath.

"Come." He says.

Jill falls beside him in a similar robe. The steel plate sits proudly on top of her beating heart.

 

Day 24

 

"You are nothing but predictable."

The scalpel clatters on the floor.

Her wrist nears its breaking point. His fingers impossibly tighten even more.

"I thought you were the smartest of the litter."

"Why?" She tugs on her captured arm hard, tries to loosen his hold. "Cause I used to suck your cock?" 

His thin lips stretch into that familiar smirk. 

He shoves her down. An iron grip on her shoulder. She winces at the sound of her bony knees against the tiles.

He towers over her.

She takes deep breaths. Her eyes dart to his crotch then to his placcid face, back to the telling outline on his pants.

She reaches for the buckle of his belt.

 

Day 44

 

_There was a hint of sweetness coating his cock._

_She toyed with the drooling slit with her tongue._

_The harder she pushed. The harder he pulsed._

_Her nails scratched through the fine blond hair surrounding it._

_She licked a hot trail from the purpling tip down to its base._

_His groan spread out in the dark room._

_Two of his fingers lightly tapped the underside of her jaw._

_She was only allowed a second to take him down her throat before he wrenched her to stand._

_He pulled her panties low enough._

_She watched him stroke his length. Her right hand kept her panties stretched open like a net._

_They exchanged ragged breaths as he shot his load in her underwear._

 

Day 84

 

She hears one large crack, registers a smaller one then another.

He snaps into her with more fervor.

The mirror behind her breaks.

She contemplates the possibility of being torn apart by his monstrous strength.

She thinks of all the colorful ways he can  _accidentally_  kill her in the middle of sex.

He grunts against her ear. His teeth bite into her shoulder. A new mark that covers the others.

Her wet cunt tightens around him.

Her muscle ripples around his length.

She comes hard because of him.

 

Day 44

 

_Four fucking hours._

_She was sure she would die of arousal and disgust._

_Her panties stayed sticky with cum. Her own slick replenishing what he had left on her underwear._

_She sat at her station, typing and rubbing her thighs together._

_She tried not to moan at the wet sensation down there._

_She felt empty._

_Itching for a good fuck._

_She wanted something thick tearing into her depths._

_"Jill." He said._

_She stood so fast, one of her knees knock on the underside of her desk. She cursed herself for being eager._

_He led her silently back into the stockroom._

_Fucked her senseless against the locked door._

 

Day 24

 

"I have no need for your tricks." He says as he dangles her by the throat.

She desperately fights for air, stares into his blazing eyes hidden by the shades.

His nostrils flare. He drops her on her feet.

She uses the next seconds to regulate her breathing.

He uses the next seconds to replace his undone belt.

She notes the straining erection on his tight pants.

"What else would you need me for?"

 

Day 14

 

"Nothing's wrong with your limbs."

"Try harder, Jill."

She stays slouched on the edge of the bed.

"Stop wasting my time." He hisses. Danger always lingers behind his ill-controlled temper.

"Stand." He commands again.

Jill glares up at him. Her fingers curl on her lap, then into the white paper thin gown.

"I can't." She sputters. The start of her tears softens the glower.

"The fall crippled me."

He snorts, grabs her upper arms, forces her to stand.

An electric current sensation shoots up from the soles of her feet.

She sobs as her legs wobble.

After a minute, he lets go of her.

But she holds on.

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

Day 94

 

Six days before the project's commencement, Uroboros remains  _unproductive_.

The subject stayed intact for one agonizingly slow minute.

They all held their breaths.

The host's body contained the destructive black tendrils.

Experiment 0723-0915 opened his eyes to showcase his evolutionary traits - slit pupils just like the master's.

It took ten seconds more before he convulsed and collapsed. The virus sprouted right out of every orifice he had. 

 _Another failure_.

Jill supervises the clean up as usual. She sees Wesker at the observation room above, eyeing the burnt remains of his most brilliant work to date.

He catches her stare and beckons her to join him.

 

Day 04

 

They feed her via tubes, formulations that contain high nutrients. Her stomach barely registers the sustenance. She often feels starved, dying for some solid food.

It's nothing but torture. The way her handlers would eat meals in her room where she could openly watch them.

They suffocate her with strong scents of steaming chicken soup, fried rice, and bacon.

Her mouth waters. But she refuses to _ask_. Her stomach grumbles.

Wesker visits her in the late afternoon. A small jar of peanut butter tucked under his arm.

He sits on the edge of her bed, opens the container. She inhales deeply the nutty scent. With two fingers he gathers a heap of the spread, sucks on them right after.

He offers her the next thick helping, literally feeding her right off of his hand.

 

Day 74

 

Jill involuntarily crawls forward. The tip of his forefinger slips out of her asshole. With a little shift, he tries penetrating her back entrance again.

It feels foreign and  _wrong_.

"Stop tensing."

Wesker probes for a while, waits for a positive reaction from her. He loses interest soon enough, pulls her upright and then drops her on his lap.

Her breath hitches when the slick head of his cock rubs against her ass.

It's to her relief when he slips into her pussy. He meets resistance there, resulted from the long moments of tension.

She finds herself leading his hand to her mound. Their long fingers caress her silken cunt until she opens up to him  _completely_.

 

Day 54

 

 _Sleaziness_  surrounds Ricardo Irving. It's almost a shock that Wesker has accomplices that outright reeks of immorality.

She has imagined him commanding long-suffering individuals. Professionals with hard to read backgrounds. War veterans and cold-blooded criminals.

Instead he conducts his operations with the assistance of a slut with a golden spoon shoved between her pouty lips, who daydreams of  _marrying_  him, who could easily derail his plans because of pettiness.

Irving is a black market dealer apparently.

He leers at her, places a hand on top of her thigh, gropes...

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

His eyes widen comically, like he's surprised that she's capable of speaking her mind.

"The last man who did got his neck snapped off."

He heeds her warning, just in time for his employer to miss the act.

 

Day 34

 

He wants an execution, hands her a katana.

Despite the P30 coursing in her veins, she's surprised by the sword's weight. She unsheathes the weapon without further preamble, sees her pale face on the polished metal.

He calls it みかづき, a new moon like her.

She tries to remember how it's done in movies with Japanese artistry. Her eyes lock on the strip of skin between the hairline and the white collar of the labcoat trembling on the ground before her.

She swings the sword. Clean end it should give. But the blade gets stuck halfway, just enough to sever the spine from the skull. 

The scientist falls limp. His head tips forward like a bottle's cap, hanging and spurting blood.

She turns to Wesker, stained red and with death on her hands.

 

Day 94

 

"What do you think of it?" Wesker asks. His hand smooths over her inner thigh, the tips of his fingers press near her groin.

Her lips part to answer but she finds out that the question lacks premise.

His digits brush the slit of her sex, fore and middle fingers opening the folds. Her hips buck out of instinct, eager for more pleasure.

"Of Uroboros." He clarifies before his head dips to capture one of her pebbled peaks. 

Her back archs off of the crumpled sheets when his finger begin circling her protruding clit.

"It's useless..." She hisses out, her legs falling open.

He lines himself with her, slides in balls deep in a single thrust.

She studies him as he ruts like any normal man - hungry and territorial. She thinks he wants to father a new world, sire a breed of superhumans.

It's out of fate's last grace he can't get her pregnant.

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

Day 65

 

The rose oil warms on her palms. Jill inhales the strong sweet scent.

She applies the extract on an expanse of tanned skin.

Wesker turns on his back without prompting.

She covers her hands with the liquid again, works on his tensed shoulders and chest next.

His breath is hot between her breasts. She leans further to reach the dips of his abdominals. 

He's  _full of blood_ , she notices. His length heavily rests on his abdomen, straining for a touch and a release.

She wonders if he will order her to jerk him off.

Her body ache at the thought. Well aware of the wet heat escaping between her thighs. Arousal has troubled her for the entire day.

"Can you smell it?" He breaks the silence.

She straightens to see his face. His hooded eyes darken the longer he stares.

"What can you smell?" He asks again. She wonders if it's a trick question, something that will allow him to sneer at her right after.

"Flowers." She answers out of compulsion, grabs a handful of petals from a clear bowl. "These damask roses."

He gets up from the massage bed.

"Lie down."

 

Day 15

 

"Fuck off!" She hisses like an irritated cat, pushes the lab rat assisting her away.

Without support, her legs fail.

She falls on the floor, creates the picture of a miserable mess.

The spectators watch her for a few minutes, before they all fall into a single file.

She glares at them.

The strangers march out of the room, a short line of white coats and black pants. They neither bother nor care.

They leave her be.

She spends the next hours in damning silence. She wastes the next moments battling her fear and bottling her tears.

Surrender hovers like a disease, tempts her to just accept defeat.

She shivers and perseveres.

 

Day 65

 

"Look at you." Two of his fingers tear into her cunt. "Nearly red and swollen."

Her breath labors. Her back archs off of the sticky table.

"I can smell you all day long." He confesses. His head dips between her thighs, tongue sliding over her sensitized clit.

"You're _in heat_ , Jill."

"Please." She gasps out loud. His fingers press and rub against her inner walls.

"Do you know what that entails?"

"Yes..." She surprises herself with her own whimper.

"Your body is asking for a breeding."

"Inside... Please." She murmurs, not hearing him.

He enters her in the next heartbeat.

Her legs cross over his waist, pulls him as close as possible.

He's so deep he hits the mouth of her womb.

Her toes curl in pleasure. Her eyes roll back into her head.

She breaks in the next thrust.

 

Day 25

 

Wesker doesn't respond to provocation well.

She wishes she can wonder about better things rather than how he gets erections in her presence.

Back in STARS, he was like any hot-blooded male she worked with, only with a lot more  _finesse_  than the others.

She thought the infection changed him, eradicated his need of physical intimacy.

What are the odds that he craves it all the more in his current state?

The sound of the passcode for her cell going through snaps her out of contemplation.

She watches the tightly shut door open like an opportunity.

Her captor crosses the threshold, enters the quite elaborate trap.

 

Day 45

 

She's infected. Her wounds have festered. The fever refuses to break.

Bile tickles her throat. The taste of vomit potent on her tongue.

Her muscles throb with pain. The lashes on her back feel like they're burrowing further into her skin.

"How are you feeling?"

Drool trickles out of her lips when she smiles.

"Miserable." She coughs, tries to rid of the scratchy feeling in her throat. "How else would I feel?"

She vaguely sees him step closer. She becomes sure of his proximity when his fingers pick at the lanky strands of her hair.

"All you have to do is ask."

"I can make you feel better. Make you good as new."

She grits her teeth. Tears form in her eyes against her will.

"Fuck you."

 

Day 65

 

She spouts nonsense on his ear, whines when he's too slow, moans when he's too deep.

He sits on his legs, spreads them slightly apart. 

She's dragged on top of him, with her legs thrown over his shoulders.

His rhythm increases. Her hands claw on his back.

The deep penetration ruins her. She throws her head back with a desperate cry.

On the mirror across the room, she sees herself.

The device on her chest looks dull.

Dead.

She scrambles upon the realization, falls on the floor, panting.

Sweat cools on her glowing skin.

It takes a minute before he touches her. And coaxes her to finish what they started.

 

Day 85

 

"You are worthy." Wesker breathes out in the aftermath of his self-experimentation.

Veins bulge underneath his skin. His eyes glow bright like the sun in a dry day.

He stalks toward the bed, where she has quietly sat in the duration of his suffering.

"Worthy." He repeats, overly tired. His hand slides under her head, grips about her ponytail. He's freezing to the touch, colder than a cadaver. 

"When this world dies..." He lifts her to stand, holds her close. "You will remain."

She neither responds nor embraces him.

"I will remain."

His words are slurred. His arms around her loose. 

"The rest is history."

He takes a deep breath in. His chest expands against hers. He exhales on her ear, his breath abnormally cold as well.

"Do you understand, Valentine?" His weight rests on her, threatens to ground them both.

"Just us two." He promises in his madness.

 


	10. Chapter 10

 

Day 75

 

"You detest Ms. Sherawat." 

Detest sounds too strong. Dislike alone comes short.

"Why?" Wesker asks, flips a page of a magazine on luxury cars. 

Her throat constricts, forced to talk. She swallows the lobster roll she's been chewing.

"Chris slept with her." 

She's confused by her own answer. So shallow. She was sure she had forgiven Chris's lapse in judgement.

"Was it before or after Queen Zenobia?"

"Before."

It was one time.

Chris had always been loyal.

They fought. He fucked the next female throwing herself at him.

It was nothing.

Wesker peers at her over his sunglasses. She sees the amusement in his eyes.  

"Jealousy is always evil." 

 

Day 55

 

She remembers doing it before. 

Legs splayed open on his desk. Full weight on one elbow. Lower back sticking on the wood. She remembers a sort of thrill in her young, plucked straight out of the Army days.

He's entertained with how she becomes wet then  _wetter_ , he says. 

Something presses into her back this time. A small lever. A button or two of the control panel here and there. She eyes the slab in the center of the room.  _Why not there?_  He can examine her better then.

One of his fingers slips into her pussy along with two of hers. He tugs and stretches her slick skin.

He pulls out the moment she's completely out of breath, her digits numb and wrinkled.

Wesker brings his fingers to his lips, savors her flavor.

She ignores the clenching in her abdomen.

 

Day 35

 

"Do not rest."

"Keep moving."

"Ineffective."

His voice digs into her insides, like steel scraping over her bones searching for the marrow.

"Stop." Her arms automatically fall on her sides. Her fighting spirit gutted with a single word. The large black bag twirls before her eyes, repeatedly beaten but still standing, so much like her. "Get on the range."

Sweat soaks her clothes, makes them stick on her skin like wet paper. Her chest feels tight as she steps infront of an assortment of rifles.

Her mind's exhausted. But her body's not.

"ACR." He instructs and before she could fully process it inside her head, her hand already finds itself around a camel-colored grip.

"Ensure you rid all of the targets this time."

He's a ghost haunting every waking moment, a ghost possessing her.

 

Day 55

 

Jill slumps over his shoulder, panting and sweating. He's softening inside of her.

She shivers, feels the all too warm sensation spreading over her limbs.

He's touching her. Hands mapping her skin. He palms a heavy breast, tweaks an erect nipple. He gropes her hip, her ass.

He keeps on touching her.

She pulls herself close, unconsciously grinds her used cunt over his undone pants. 

He stands from the swivel chair, soft cock sliding out, thick seed following suit. The entirety of her tightens, chases the loss. 

He carries her out of the laboratory and to who knows where. She falls asleep with the rhythm of his steps.

 

Day 05

 

"Why are you doing this?" She asks during a light meal, white thin fingers grasping a cheddar square.

Her eyes bore into him, memorizing the confidence and impatience permeating his stance.

"Have you always wanted this?" She notices the way he crosses his legs, gloved hands folding on his lap.

She notices the way he  _guards_  himself.

Her stare shifts to the plate of half-eaten crackers. 

"Have you always wanted to play the villain?"

She hears a 'no', believes it's nothing but her drug-addled imagination. 

 

Day 95

 

"I'm not the one at fault." He whispers in the dark, whispers on the afterglow covering her skin. "This world is." 

Her fingers run into his ruffled hair, tug until the short strands stick in weird directions, smooth until they fall over his snake eyes.

"It created me." 

"It's my turn to  _recreate_  it." 

He props himself on his elbow, eyes the decorative scarab on her naked chest. His finger traces over the delicate wires scarring her skin. He soon places his palm over the jewel, works his fingers around the plate. 

He gives it a good tug, tests its depth and build.

The wires groan and she writhes in sudden pain.

"Will you not try to change my mind?"

"No."

 


	11. Chapter 11

 

Day 86

 

A fever burns in her.

It soaks her insides. Turns her muscles to porridge mush. Turns her bones to peanut brittle.

She's hurting. Sweat covers her skin. She stays at her post. Death mask and cloak in place. 

Jill swallows, finds her mouth and throat more than dry. 

"Did you even hear what I said?!" Excella's voice screeches in her ears. She wears something that flatters in dark red. Her stiletto heels sound like bells slapped against steel when she walks.

Jill exhales, finds her chest shake with the expelled breath. 

She closes her eyes for one long second. 

Then nothing.

 

Day 16

 

_Jill wrenched the dirt-caked shirt off. She dropped it on a nearby rock, grimaced at the sight of mud trails all over her torso. She worked to rid of the stained cargo pants next._

_"You okay?" She heard Chris approach her, the water slushed with each of his step._

_"Yeah."_

_Her muscles complained with every movement. The training exercise for STARS was more than she expected. At least the stream's water against her skin felt refreshing._

_Lean arms wrapped around her from behind. A nose buried in her sweat-drenched hair._

_She fought off the reflex to jump away, uncomfortable with how dirty and unattractive she was at the moment._

_"It's nice here." Chris murmured in her hair. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss on the juncture of her neck and shoulder._

_Warmth spread within her, fueled more by the heat of the sun and the obvious hardness at the slope of her ass._

_"You think they'll come looking?" Smiles bloomed on their faces._

 

Day 46

 

"I wonder how much this body of yours can take." Wesker presses on the injection's plunger a little harder. 

"I can break you with this, Jill." He pulls the needle out roughly, smirks at the lack of expression on her face despite the pain.

She feels numb. She has lost count how many times the P30 was given to her.

All the puncture sites are afire. Yet she remained voiceless about the extreme discomfort.

"The lashes have closed."

He circles the elaborate metal chair, crouches right in front of her. His gloves stick with the sweat on her bare knees. He raises a hand to touch her face.

"How much would Chris give to _have you_ again..." 

"I have plans for you." He breathes out with satisfaction. Behind the tinted glasses, the corners of his eyes crinkle.

"We'll start with eliminating that old partner of yours." 

 

Day 26

 

Wesker has her crushed between the glass wall and his unyielding body. He tears the front of her lab gown, captures her mouth in a suffocating kiss.

Doubt erupts in her heart. Her knees weaken and her arms tremble.

He grabs her by the hips, holds her up and _pinned in place_. One gloved hand finds its way between her thighs, tucks her panties aside.

Her breath hitches at a tinkling sound - his belt coming loose.

She's not wet enough, not open enough to receive him.

He forces his way in, leaves her out of breath and wincing in pain.

It takes painfully slow minutes, frantic thrusts, and an inhuman pace.

She bears every sting, blinks back tears.

It's difficult to play the victim.

 

Day 66

 

The plate's control sits on the table, next to  _her side_  of the bed.

The minutes drag by. She observes it, wonders why it's left close to her reach so carelessly.

She blinks. It lights up. She shuts her eyes at the sudden burst of white.

It vibrates. A call. Excella Gionne.

She observes the phone, his personal phone that also functions as the remote control for the toy that is her.

The piece of plastic continues to rattle against the wood. She does nothing but stare.

Wesker rustles under the sheets. Movements leaden and annoyed. A tanned arm stretches across her under the moonlight and snatches the offending device.

The disturbance disappears.

He settles on his back with a small flop.

"Lie here." He rasps.

She's pulled away from the headboard, led to lie against his side. He sighs, feels the cool metal stitched on her chest right on his skin.

Long fingers weave in her hair, caress the curve of her neck, brush her bare shoulder, and finally rest on the dip of her waist.

"Sleep." She goes under and deep.

 

Day 26

 

A sound like a sob escapes from her into the room. She's startled by it as she pants on his clothed shoulder. 

His hips snap up. He buries himself inside of her. As deep as possible. Grinds. Desecrates.

She hears him groan, watches his neck strain and his jaw tense in the peak of his pleasure. 

Abundant heat then fills her. Prolonged spurts that she can feel all too much.

He looks down at her face _once_ , before he's pulling out and casting her aside like a doll.

He doesn't bother righting himself. He dashes out of the metal double doors.

Albert Wesker leaves her sprawled on the lab floor.

Fucked raw and with the hot mess he made between her legs.

 

Day 86

 

She wakes in his private laboratory, sees the intrusive lights, and the state-of-the-art equipment.

"We can remove the pump." A floating voice says.

"We can remove the embryo." Another chimes in.

"It may continue naturally!" Someone shouts in exhilaration. "All we need is to stop the P30 supply. Imagine the research we can conduct, what we can discover!"

"We're not even sure if this is a mere threatened abortion." One reasons.

"She's _still_ bleeding." Wesker's voice echoes. Far away. Full of indecision.

Jill dismisses the voices. 

The fever is gone. The pad lining her underwear feels thick and filled. 

She's somehow more different with the P30 cut off.

 


	12. Chapter 12

 

Day 36

 

The room's temperature is turned down to freezing.

Wesker's body seem to disagree with too heated environments. Possibly a side effect of his virus. A weak point.

"It's an ancillary chemical." He says, walks around the laboratory with vials in his hands.

"The drug is a part of the Progenitor."

Jill lies still on the cold slab, listens to the impromptu lecture on virus origins. 

It's useful she thinks, whatever objective detail he decides to spit out. It'll be more useful if she can get out of the facility.

"You're the only subject for it right now."

He leans over the slab. Gloved hands clasp over the edges. His eyes run the length of her. Head to toe and back again.

"The virus inside of me is born from the Progenitor. I am the first success.  _Ascended_."

Jill feels like rolling her eyes. She has already heard that he fancies himself a god. No need for reinforcement.

"Your body's quite resilient." 

He places two fingers over her sternum, presses against the bone.

"Adaptive."

His fingers slide down. _Inhale_. Between her breasts. _Exhale_. To the dip of her stomach.

"It responds to me so well."

His palm settles on her lower abdomen.

"To what I want."

He feels colder than the room.

 

Day 76

 

A second finger, slick with medical grade lubricant slides into her ass.

She feels the twin digits slowly pull out. Her breath releases with every centimeter freed up.

Without warning, the fingers are knuckle deep inside of her. She throws her head back, suppresses her cry.

"Stop!" She pants. "Fuck!" Her insides squirm with the pressure. She'll make a mess. 

She'll make a mess if he fucking moves again. Piss herself or worse.

"Relax, Jill."

She closes her legs tight together. He begins to move, experimentally increases the pace.

"You're getting wet." 

 _She is_.

The stimulation in her anus. She feels the slick forming between her rubbing thighs.

She wants to fight, push him out.

But she's helplessly swept under the blend of pain and pleasure.

 

Day 56

 

She watches him slowly pull out, expects the empty and messy sensation right after.

He is still hard. As expected as well.

Her insides twitch. Sensitive but wanting more.

He suddenly slides two fingers into her.

"Do you feel sore?" He asks in time with the pumps of his fingers. She bites back a moan as his knuckles brush over that sensitized patch inside.

"Yes."

"Torn?"

Torn? She doesn't think so. She doesn't feel like it.

She's still embarassingly wet. 

"No."

His fingers come away with specks of blood mixed with his seed.

"You're bleeding a little." He says. His tone discomfit.

He holds her legs open. 

The expression on his face hard to read. 

 

Day 06

 

_She hated herself for it. Knew it was beyond wrong. Felt guilt eating her bones._

_She couldn't deny him._

_"You'll stay the night?" He asked from the kitchen._

_She grabbed a packet of cigarettes on the table, lit one for herself._

_"Take that outside." He said irritated._

_She ignored him, blew a big white smoke in his living room out of defiance._

_She could nearly see Chris shaped in the gray cloud._

_"I don't feel like a cop."_

_Her hand traced the edge of a surgical scar at her side, knew it runs all the way to her back, ends before it reaches her spine. It felt tender even after years._

_"I miss the streets."_

_She lay back on the couch, completely naked. The fabric was rough against her skin._

_Her eyes met his across the room. Thinning smoke in between them._

_"You shouldn't have taken me out."_

 

Day 96

 

"Take this."

She takes the long coat from his hand, dutifully folds the heavy and thick material over her wool-covered arm.

"It will be below zero degrees."

"You'll leave this off?" She asks, one hand over her clothed chest. She adjusts on the cream leather seat across him. Her chest feels weighed down with a dead jewel mounted over it.

"I believe you have no plans of jumping out of this plane."

She lets herself get caught staring past his shoulder, to where a red light hangs over the exit door.

"I want to rest." 

"Finish the tea then."

She reaches for the gold-rimmed ceramic, studies the remaining half of a light green liquid. He has incorporated the disgusting herbal concoction in  _her diet_  over a week ago.

She tips the cup over her lips, eyes not leaving his watchful ones.

Something coils in her core with each little swallow.

  


	13. Chapter 13

 

Day 47

 

"So this is the P30?" The man spits out, towers at least as tall as Wesker.

His black eyes assess her from head to toe. Curious but unimpressed in the end.

She appears far from formidable stuffed in a satin gown. All dressed up, she wonders if she's being  _sold_.

"The funds are running low because of  _this_?"

Wesker removes himself from leaning on the conference table. He hands a folder to the skeptic head of Tricell Africa.

"Ah." The bearded man nods, reads further through the file. "BSAA founding member. It's why her face is familiar."

His dark stare fixes on her with renewed interest.

"Did the cryo do this? She's pale like a ghost." 

"Yes. Her color was drained."

"What can this drug do then?"

"Absolute obedience."

 

Day 17

 

Jill grapples with the parallel bars.

Sweat trickles down the side of her face with the exertion. Her breaths come in huffs.

On the next step, her right knee buckles. She crumples on the floor. The numerous bruises on her skin worsen.

She struggles to grab for the stainless bar. 

Her efforts bear fruit after a while.

She manages a good grip, brings herself to standing position again.

Resounding claps mock her achievement.

She ignores his calculating eyes and the self-satisfied look on his face.

Her body shakes like a leaf with every step.

But she makes it to the end of the white room without falling, robs him of the chance to  _help_.

 

Day 47

 

Jill slips back into the thin gown, replaces the straps over her shoulders. She makes her way to Wesker. 

He grimaces as the hem drags over the pool of blood on the marble.

She presents him her naked back and the undone long zipper.

His fingers get on with the task.

She thinks back to how she was commanded to strip. To show she would carry out any order without second thought. 

But the dead man wanted to touch, wanted  _a_   _lot more_  than touch.

As a result, he's turned to a corpse.

She feels the zipper slide properly in place.

But her owner lingers.

She thinks of her significance in his plans. Her weight. His irrationality.

His lips suddenly drop on her shoulder. He bares his teeth over her skin, draws a wet line to her pulse with his tongue.

He bites there, bruises her.

Ensures she's branded.

 

Day 87

 

Bleak eyes fix on a lighted ceiling fan.

She can see the deep red of the sky from the thrown open windows.

The sun is setting.

She sits on the bed, rests her back on the thick pillows.

The chest plate is off. She feels lighter. 

She slips a hand between her thighs, feels for a pad in her underwear. Nothing. 

"You're awake." 

"What happened?" She asks, half interested about the reason she collapsed. The other half's interested about the tray of food on the center table.

"P30 overdose." 

She nods, climbs out of the bed, and heads to the table.

Wesker's witholding information. The tension on his frame's too obvious.

She tries to read the rest of the story in his silence. And in between bites of flat bread, she takes a wild guess.

"How far along was I?"

 

Day 27

 

Even Wesker's shadow is accounted for. Absent in the morning. Absent still in the afternoon.

She can still feel him between her legs. 

A dark haired researcher keeps her company. Younger than most she had seen in the underground laboratory. His right cheek dimples when he smiles. 

He's a handsome man. Dr. Erick Rutherford.

Excella had clambered on his lap by midday. 

"You're a mystery, Ms. Valentine." The good doctor says. His long pale fingers adjust the course focus on the microscope.

"Are you aware you're immune to T?"

"No."

"You're the only one immune."

He seems more than pleased by the fact.

He stands from the creeking stool, sinks to his knees before her. There's a perverse reverence in his eyes.

"We can pump you with any virus and it will have no effect." His thumb draws circles on her exposed knee. "The worst is you'll get a high fever." His fingers creep higher on her thigh.

"I wonder what exactly he's keeping you for."

He smiles, lopsided.

"The possibilities with you are endless."

 

Day 87

 

Eight weeks.

She had not felt different until yesterday with the cold sweat and burning fever.

She couldn't care less.

It's gone.

Jill gulps a glass full of water.

It doesn't eliminate the  _fact_  that Wesker impregnated her all the same.

"It won't happen again." He says, reading her mind.

"If my seed catches another time, then you'll simply bleed it out in a month or two."

She eyes him warily. Not believing his nonchalance.

She wouldn't want to carry his genetically modified spawn. She couldn't stop him either if that would be his intention.

Maybe it's really not in his interest.

To create a new breed  _naturally_.

It's difficult to believe he would pass up such an opportunity.

 

Day 67

 

Warmth bathes her face. Soft light disturbs her sleep.

He shifts behind her on the mattress.

She purrs at the feeling of his morning erection against the cleft of her ass. It nudges eagerly, smears precum on her skin.

She rolls away and on her belly, buries her face in the pillows. 

He finds it as invitation rather than rejection.

His hands part her buttocks. His thumbs dig into her flesh.

She feels his weight settle on the back of her thighs. 

Her eyes and lips snap open at the first thrust. Little cries trickle from her mouth with the gentle rocking that follows.

She's ready for him. Wet and tight around his cock. 

It's not the first time he wakes her for sex.

She quietly watches the sun rise.

 


	14. Chapter 14

 

Day 77

 

"Show me." Jessica suddenly says. She bounces on her seat, leans closer to Jill.

"Come on." She quips between pops of bubblegum. "Show me!" The agent points to her own chest with enthusiasm.

Jill unbuttons the shirt she's currently in, parts the fabric until the plate is in full display.

Jessica inspects the device with the same interest a woman would a shiny jewelry.

Her face scrunches up after a while.

"Looks gross." She murmurs to herself, pretends to shudder. "Your veins are all visible and swollen." Her eyes flick to Jill's.

"It's like an enhancer, right?"

Jill inclines her head as affirmation.

"How do you feel with it out on the field?"

"Invincible."

 

Day 07

 

She grabs on the bedrails and retches on the floor.

Pressure surges in her head with each violent heave. Bile lines her throat.

And through teary eyes, she watches her vomit pool on the tiles.

"Tch."

Jill looks up at the direction of the discontented noise.

The Italian woman from that morning is back.

She glares at Jill through her specs, shoves her dainty hands inside her coat's pockets.

"You look absolutely terrible." Her accent is what's  _terrible_. Blurs the L's and drags the R's.

The woman crosses the room in her golden heels, avoids the mess she made.

"What did you give me..." Jill asks, already fading out.

Ms. Gionne hums low and takes her limp arm for inspection. She presses a sharp nail on the sore injection site she left earlier in the day.

"Let's _try_ this one." Excella says with a giggle. New syringe in hand.

Jill doesn't register the sting.

 

Day 37

 

The sound of his footsteps bounce off of the old walls.

Her legs cramp up after rounding another corner.

Every torch cast his shadow. It reaches for her and chases her.

She gives into the strain, limps her way into a dark alcove. She hides.

For hours, she's been running in circles.

He'll find her sooner rather than later.

She can't see a way out of the maze.

"Tired already, Valentine?"

Her labored breaths serve as an answer.

He forces her back on her bloodied feet, quickly slides a needle right into her neck.

She silently leads herself back in the labs once it's done.

 

Day 97

 

"How sweet of you to deliver these yourself, Albert." The blonde woman says.

She appraises the samples. Her cold blue eyes shine along with the little vials.

"Jill." Wesker drawls.

Her attention shifts to him and to the picture hanging on the far wall. It's him and the unfamiliar woman in white before her.

"This is my sister - Aleksa Wesker."

Her ears ring at the mention of  _sister_.

How could there be  _more Weskers_  in the world?

"Is she the one..." Aleksa closes the case, a pure red smile on her face. "Who made your Uroboros possible?"

"Yes, Alex."

"She is  _that_  one."

Wood breaks and burns. Jill looks on their reflection framed above the fireplace.

They're like fallen angels in assembly. All glowing with their sickly yellow hair.

 

Day 57

 

The improved Lickers can reproduce.

She has seen nothing as strange as bio-organic weapons actually mating.

She doesn't even know they have males and females to begin with.

They rut like dogs would. Locks together too at the climax. Complete with a grotesque knot.

Wesker takes her in the same fashion later in the day.

The rug he's fucking her on rubs her knees and elbows raw.

He has screwed her enough times that she's _sure_ his penis remained normalafter the infection.

Only his refractory period seems disturbingly shorter.

"Fuck!" His entire weight drops on her back.

He curses again on her ear. His thrusts no longer controlled.

When he ejaculates, it's either she shivers in the coldness of his seed or cries at the intense heat of it.

She cries in ecstasy.

 

Night 97

 

"Jill..." He moans in her hair, drives deeper and slower into her body. "Jillian."

She feels like it can go on for the rest of the night.

A muted discomfort shoots in her stomach, distracts her from the pleasure in her core.

She scratches her nails against his scalp and down to his nape, tugs at the short hair there. He purrs and nips at her skin.

He maintains the lazy pace of their coupling.

She has to encourage better.

"Faster, Albert..." She rasps against his ear.

Her long legs lock around his hips. Her heels dig into his back.

He thrusts hard into her cunt and kisses her longer.

"Albert." She tries again, voice lowered to breathless and desperate. "Please..."

Her back arches. Her hips rock in need.

She whispers  _Albert_  against his lips until they reach that end she wanted.

 


	15. Chapter 15

 

Day 28

 

_"I'm transferring you to Bravo." Jill turned back to Wesker, eyes wide and mouth agape._

_She couldn't have heard it right. He couldn't be serious._

_"What did you say?"_

_"You will transfer to Marini's team, Jill."_

_She hated his use of authority. Hated that expressionless face of his. Hated his constant manipulations._

_"May I ask **why**?"_

_She caught a glint of his eyes behind the glasses. His hands pretended to sort through documents but his full attention remained on her._

_"Officer Chambers has much to learn. Better put her under my direct supervision."_

_"Have you fucked her yet? Teenagers must be extra tight."_

_"Jealousy doesn't suit you."_

_"Neither does it you._

_The wall clock's ticking grew louder in the room with tension thick in between them. They levelled a glare on each other before she grabbed for her belongings and stomped towards the exit._

_"You want me to stop seeing Chris? You'll have to try harder, Captain Wesker."_

_Later in her little apartment, she practiced writing a resignation letter._

 

Day 88

 

She's been left alone for most of the day. Only two guards are spared to watch over her. 

Jill took her time soaking in the bath. She tried to assess herself, looked for any more abnormalities.

She stands in front of a mirror now. Robe open and body bare.

Her palms slide over the smooth skin of her belly. She remembers a long scar running along her side when she was a decade younger.

Surgery and money.

The cryostasis cured her of any marks of who she once was. 

She presses her fingers inches below her navel, feels a slight tenderness there.

Wesker finds her in that manner, stark naked and touching herself.

She continues her inspection under his watch.

 

Day 68

 

Her dose is noticeably low. She can feel the hold of his will on her a little loose.

 _"You're a romantic aren't you, Albert?"_  Jill contemplates on actually saying it. But she shuts her mouth, forces herself to appreciate the dark water and the bright moon reflected on it.

Starry night sky.

Shell-filled white sand.

Them nearly naked.

Sex on the beach. That's the idea. 

She wants to laugh out loud. At his desperation. At his painfully  _human_  antics. She wants to mock him.

But he looks calm, sitting in lotus position. Is he meditating? 

She tears at the swimsuit clinging on her body, drops the pieces right in front of him.

She runs into the water, disturbs the surface with her arms.

The noise alerts him. He opens his eyes to see the nude display.

He soon joins her in the water. His arms wrap around her body without warning, like the gesture's something out of instinct.

She freezes.

He sighs on her hair. And she closes her eyes.

 

Day 48

 

There's  _nothing_  to see.

Just a long stretch of dry dirt.

Doesn't Africa have lions, tigers, and all sorts of big cats roaming about?

It's not that bad, she thinks. Her arm dangles out of the jeep. The sun warms her skin, gentle heat instead of its usual scorching. She's glad to be _outside_.

She shifts on the seat, folds her legs under her. She brings herself up at the window, rests her head on her arms.

The heat feels heavenly on her face. She can fall asleep there with the wind loud on her ears. 

An hour on the rough road and patches of green stain the earth.

Fingers trail on the curve of her spine left exposed by the gown. Her body goes lax under the cold touch.

"Look, Jill." There's no need for a command. She's  _already_  looking.

A pride cautiously watches them pass by. 

 

Day 18

 

"Did I die that night?" She lies motionless on the table, stares straight on the beaming lights hanging above her. 

"Did I die?" She repeats her question, insists on being answered.

He walks around the table, focused on the details of her rehabilitation. 

"You did not."

"You're lying." She releases a shaky breath. It's always damn cold in his personal lab. "I heard the crunch of glass and wood. I heard the thunder and Chris' voice. Then nothing."

"A complete black out." 

"There was no pain when I hit the ground." She directs her stare at him. " _Why_?" 

He looms over her, blocks the lights until the entirety of him is shadowed.

"You know why, Jill." She notices a syringe in his hand. The barrel full of liquid colored like his eyes.

"You couldn't let me die." The needle sinks into her skin, fills her with him,  _overwhelms_. "Because I belong to you, Albert."

He thumbs her bottom lip. A caress over that familiar pout. He relishes in the sound of his name rolling off of her lips.

 

Day 28

 

_Three days of no show at work. On the fourth day, she received an expected visit._

_Chris rapped on the door. Oblivious._

_Jill stifled her cries on a fairly bitten shoulder._

_"Stop—" A hand slid under her jaw, locked her slender neck in a strangle. She tightened on the next thrust **so much**  Wesker kissed her breathless._

_On the unmade bed, she squirmed beneath him. Pathetic retaliation. Her body was under his. She was simply brimming with him._

_"Wesker, stop..." His pace only increased. "Chris is—" He reduced her to a moaning mess. She was so wet down there where they were joined. So wet no matter how rough he got._

_She stopped then, gave in. Her limbs fell in submission around him._

_He was aware of her surrender. He grunted, mouthed something uncharacteristic against her skin._

_"You belong to me."_   _He uttered repeatedly._

 _A_ _man possessed._

 


	16. Chapter 16

 

Day 08

 

In her sleep, her right arm gives a violent jerk. She winces, half awake.

The handcuff cuts into her raw skin.

She waits for the pain to ebb away, tries to go back to the previous depth of her slumber and fails.

Minutes pass.

Her focus stays on the discomfort secured around her limbs. Her lower back aches. Her neck feels stiff.

She hears the metal door sliding open, followed by soft footfalls. She screws her eyes shut, wills her face to smoothen and mimic unconsciousness.

The familiar presence does its usual round. A check on her vitals on the monitors. A touch on her cheek to see if she's sound asleep.

But it does something different today.

Cool fingers release the locks around her ankles. They travel up to her wrists next.

She opens her eyes in time to see her right hand coming free.

"Go back to sleep." He says, places the stainless links on the bedside table. 

Jill quickly falls on her left side, away from him, and curls into a loose ball.

She resists a sigh at finally finding a more comfortable position. 

The feel of cold cream being applied on her skin lulls her back to sleep.

 

Day 78

 

No one tricks Wesker.

Jill reaches for the tape trapping Agent Sherawat's mouth.

The woman glares at her through the sticky curls of her hair.

Bruises decorate her skin. Her clothes are in tatters.

The Plaga soldiers had been nothing but thorough.

"You think having cocks brutally fill my holes will get me to spill? I've gone through worse." 

"It wasn't about making you talk." Jill replies in a disembodied voice.

"It was nothing but to test their virility." She takes out a syringe, uncaps it right before Jessica's murderous eyes.

"You were after this." She finds a vein on Jessica's straining neck.

"They're giving it to you now."

It's a dosage same to her daily P30 shots before the plate.

It gets Jessica to talk with clarity. And by the time she's dropping names, blood is trickling out of her ears and nose.

Sherawat should have known better than to play triple agent  _against_  Tricell.

 

Day 58

 

 _"Should have gone for the throat."_  

But there's something satisfying with the way Excella trembles with bloody hands and a long gash on her once perfect face.

Her high pitched cries shake the laboratory and saturate her skin.

Armed guards rush into the room. Laser sights automatically on her.

Excella covers her face with a hand. She's crying so much. So pale. And so very angry.

Jill wonders if she  _accidentally_  got an eye. It's difficult to tell with the crimson mess on the other woman's face.

"Kill her! Kill her!  ** _Kill her!!!_** " Excella shrieks. Desperate cries. Trying to grasp for power she doesn't really have.

Jill allows the scalpel to fall on the floor.

"I said kill her!"

At least three takes a step forward. And that's about it.

They're frozen in time. Fingers ready on the triggers. But nothing else besides that alertness.

They're smart enough. Wesker would be proud and livid.

But nothing else.

She could have gone for the throat and gotten away with it.

 

Day 98

 

"It's ugly." She trails a trimmed nail over the glass of the chest plate. Under her, she hears him utter an agreement.

"It's not the most discreet design." His hands knead her legs, thumbs digging into her inner thighs, spreading her further.

She sees him eyeing her cunt, still dripping with his seed. 

"I will remove the plate when this is over."

She feels a smile on her lips, rueful.

"Will you really?" She leans over him.

Her body adjusts until the head of his cock teases her wet slit.

He grabs her and turns on his side, enters her in that position.

She drapes her left leg over his waist, pulls herself close so he could be as deep as possible.

"We could die tomorrow." 

"Or on the day after that."

"Are you afraid of death, Albert?"

He buries his face at the crook of her neck, holds her closer.

"I already died a long time ago."

 

Day 38

 

_"Is it really a cult of cannibals?"_

_Gnawed off arms. Half-eaten internal organs. Jill flipped the photos over on his desk, had enough of gore for the day._

_She had seen the gruesome remains on sight in the Raccoon forest. The recent victims: a young couple._

_She craned her neck, found the room empty._

_"Albert?"_

_Her footsteps were silent as she explored the flat._

_She found him in the bathroom, in front of the sink, closing a medicine kit._

_"What is that?" She caught a couple of syringes and the Umbrella logo on the box's cover._

_"Supplements." He smoothly replied, placed the box in a cabinet._

_"Are you staying here tonight?" His voice sounded soothing, considerate even._

_He had heard of the breakup and was pleased by it no doubt._

_Wesker reached for her and led her back to the bedroom._

_And as he lay her down on his bed, she wondered if she was to be called his "girlfriend"._

_He was so warm and solid on top of her that she decided it was alright to forego labels._

_She could content herself with the exclusivity his posessiveness provided._

 

Day 98

 

Sunlight spills into the plane's small windows.

Jill listens to Wesker talk on the phone. Clipped words and ruffled feathers.

She hears the clock ticking, aware of the countdown on their lives.

"They're sending him in."

She looks away from the sunlit windows and to him.

He's golden under the soft light. In that after sex glow that seems to change him.

In the four corners of that room, he's unguarded.

Something twists inside of her.

"It's unfortunate. If they didn't then he would live a little longer."

Her tongue is heavy in her mouth. Her entire body is heavy.

He better turn the plate back on so she could function.

"Chris will stop all of this." She says and that sentence is enough for him to change back to who he really is.

His features harden. The snake-like eyes appear more frightening under a bright lighting.

"When we land, you will release Uroboros in the village."

The plate breathes on her chest. Loud and alive. Prepared for its last performance.

 


	17. Chapter 17

 

Day 69

 

_"Don't sleep on me now."_

_"Is this because of your age?"_

_"Does a man's libido die at 40?"_

_He grumbled and turned to her but kept his eyes shut._

_"You're going home first thing tomorrow morning." He rasped._

_"Go be a nun for a month at least."_

_She laughed. It was an ugly laughter. Stuck in her chest. Barely trickling out._

_"You're seriously abstaining? Cause you can't keep up with me?"_

_"It's nearly three, Valentine."_

_"So? It's our rest day." Her hand was already under the covers._

_"We're built for all nighters."_

_He was hard when she wrapped her fingers around him._

_Her slow strokes earned her a glare._

_"Will you fuck me if I say please?"_

_He wrenched her hand off and climbed on top of her._

_"Horny harlot." He hissed on her ear._  

_Her laughter turned to pleasured cries within the hour._

 

Day 29

 

She crouches in a niche, searches for more enemies.

Her hands are shaking around the rifle she stole.

She wasted bullets back there. Didn't even kill them all. She's out of practice. Her aim sucks.

This stunt will be a bust.

She's more than tired.

They're going to catch her soon.

She sits there and waits.

It's Wesker who drags her out of the poorly chosen hiding place.

She points the gun at him, tries to threaten the beast.

He merely cocks his head to the side.

Her finger lowers on the trigger.

And he takes all the bullets in like it's nothing.

Fucking monster.

 

Day 49

 

She wonders if he's aware of it.

That he's  _caressing_  her while picking at whatever doomsday project he's working on.

He wants a companion.

She's sure of it.

A partner in crime of his choosing. A partner not out of necessity.

Just a partner he  _wants_.

Wesker's so basic really.

All villains only want to be loved. That's surely in a rule book somewhere out there.

He hauls her suddenly. Her rigged body can't even express surprise.

He seats her between his legs, leans back so she's lying on him.

She can't voluntarily turn to see his face. She can only look at the flickering fluorescent above them.

He nuzzles her hair, breathes heavily down on her neck. A cuddle. Un-fucking-believable.

She wonders if he'll die if she tells him she loves him.

An end to his villainy finally.

 

Day 19

 

She rounds the room another time. The strength inside of her is steadily building.

One of these days she'll cut through them like a knife on a cake.

One of these days Chris will come for her.

She loses her breath on the next step, steadies herself with an arm on the wall.

It's irritating how she's trembling, how she's so fucking weak.

She'll endure. She has survived worse.

A presence quickly closes in on her, startles her. It sweeps her off her feet, carries her bridal style.

Her whole body feels dumped in ice.

"Let go of me."

"You're done for the day."

She struggles in his hold, as violently as possible.

She escapes. Or he drops her. It's hard to say. Only the pain on her elbows and back matter.

"Suit yourself, Jill."

"Crawl back to your little cell."

"Contribute to your suffering."

 

Day 89

 

"You sure you have to waste all of your time in here?" She grabs an apple from the table, rubs its shiny red skin on her shirt.

"Don't you have some masterplan to go over?"

"You can increase the guard count and I  _might_  not get past them." She throws a look over the windows. They're not that high up. She can try her luck with a jump.

Energy's coursing through her. Real energy produced by her own body.

She can wreak a little havoc.

Worst they can do is restart the plate.

Nothing else.

Wesker is, she searches her mind for a fitting word, Wesker is rattled.

She takes a bite out of the apple. The crunch catches his attention.

He looks at her, his sharp features flat.

She places a hand on lower abdomen.

"Don't tell me you wanted to be a father."

Her burst of laughter insults him.

 

Day 69

 

_The water from the shower stopped._

_She started talking once the doorknob turned._

_"I'm only willing to go through pregnancy twice."_

_She saw him pause at her declaration. He was in nothing but a towel loose around his waist._

_She gave him a quick once over. ~~Hot~~. Not bad._

_"One boy. One girl. That's my limit."_

_He closed the door behind him, strode towards the cabinet with a confused expression on his face._

_He was ~~cute~~  when caught off guard._

_"Gender doesn't matter I suppose."_

_"You are aware it takes two humans to create these prospective infants of yours."_

_There was a smile on his lips. A half smile._

_It made him look younger._

_It made her feel funny._

_"Yes. I have intimate knowledge of the process."_

_"Alright." He gave up trying to choose what to wear, stood at the edge of the bed instead, hands on his hips._

_"What brought this on, Jillian?"_

_That made her feel funny too. His use of her full name. The sound rolled off his tongue to coil and settle deep inside of her._

_She answered with actions. Lose the sheet. Bare her body._

_"Nothing, Albert."_

  


	18. Chapter 18

 

Day 39

 

Inside, she's rooted in fear.

Outside, she's wrenching out the elongated tongue of a Licker.

Most of the appendage is coiled like a whip around her arm. Its owner screeches and squirms beneath her weight.

She takes out her knife, the only weapon they're willing to give, and cuts through the tough muscle.

The creature overpowers her, throws her off its back.

Jill lands on all fours. A hiss of her own slips through her lips.

She sees through its deadly swipes, dodges with grace, and kicks it on its back.

The exposed heart explodes under her blade and blood sprays all over her face.

"Donna mostro."

Excella's lewd voice rings through the speakers.

 

Day 79

 

Wesker feels large already in her cunt. In her ass, he's enormous.

The lube-coated cockhead pops through her tight ring of muscle.

Discomfort flares where they are joined.

And tears actually sting her eyes.

"Pull out..." She splutters. "Please."

He hushes her and pushes another inch inside.

Like a fish out of water, her lips fall open.

Her mind panics and her body fights the intrusion.

"Spread your legs." 

His knee knocks her thighs apart.

She takes the encouragement, spreads her legs until she's pulled in a split.

Another inch sinks in, pushes the breath out of her mouth.

She crushes a pillow beneath her body, between her arms, clings for dear life.

His whole body lowers over her. 

He buries his face on her shoulder, surprises her with a quick thrust that sheathes all of him inside her.

She covers her cry with the sheets.

 

Day 59

 

She and Excella go under surgery.

They fix Excella's face.

And on her chest, they place a jeweled device.

The wires drill into her skin to twine around her bones.

Wesker's angry with her. He merely supervises the operation from afar. But he's there, ever watching.

They told her it's a pump they're installing, a pump to provide a continuous supply of P30 in her body.

They told her that she's fortunate, that she's special.

She's awake for the entire process. There's no pain. But she can still feel the tugs and the cuts.

Terror creeps onto the surface of her armor. 

But she doesn't let herself to cave in. 

 

Day 79

 

It's getting better.

She counted  _three_ , three agonizingly slow thrusts before it started getting better.

"Just..." She wipes her sweat with shaking hands. "Just thrust faster and come."

"Does it feel good now?" He nips along her ear, thrilled. "Is there pleasure here?" He lightly slaps her ass.

Her muscles flutter around him. Her intestines are squirming. But at the same time, slick leaks from her pussy. 

She turns her neck so she can see him. 

He looks ridiculous. There's pride in his fire-like eyes and a small smile on his lips. Ridiculous.

On the corner of her mouth, he plants a sloppy kiss.

His length glides easily inside her now. He works his fingers under her, reaches to strum her protruding clit.

She moans loud into the pillows.

"You like getting fucked in the ass, Jillian?"

The playful tone's infuriating.

He sits up, taking her with him. He almost laughs at the surprised noises escaping her.

"Come on." He urges on her ear, fingers firm around her waist. 

She takes an experimental thrust, feels all the muscles within her protest.

"Feels good, isn't it?"

She bites back a pleasured cry.

"Wait until I shit on your prick."

His smile only widens.

 

Day 09

 

_Chris noticed. Everyone probably took notice._

_She shouldn't have seated next to him._

_Wesker cleared another glass of whiskey, lit another cigarette. Usually it was her and her vices. But that night, he indulged his._

_For more than an hour, his right arm remained draped at the back of her chair._

_On more than one occasion, his fingers had lingered over her bare shoulder._

_She imagined his hand **on**  her shoulder. Finally done with the hovering and circling around._

_But no matter how hard she willed it. His touch stayed elusive._

_"Care for a drive?" He asked after blowing smoke all over their table._

_She nodded. Eager. Hands tight on her cheap purse. She had been dying all night to leave the wedding reception._

_To leave and be alone with him._

 

Day 99

 

The man begs for his life, begs in his Swahili tongue and with his fearful eyes.

Jill ignores his cries.

She administers the virus.

It takes seconds for Uroboros to consume him.

The resulting black mass then lumbers around her. It roars. The long tendrils longingly reach for her.

She ignores the slithering monster as well.

Her eyes are on the nearby boiler room.

Chris will figure it out. Chris will lure and kill it there.

It's the most assistance she can give.

Uroboros wails when she walks away.

The sound pierces her ears. The newborn monster cries for its mother.

 


	19. Chapter 19

 

Day 40

 

Dr. Erick reminds her of the stereotypical hot jocks in horror flicks.

Able and handsome and dead after he gets to fuck the hot cheerleader type.

They're all aware that the P30 coursing through her is a mind control drug.

It won't take a genius to figure out what's brewing in Dr. Erick's brilliant mind.

With his lingering looks and inappropriate touches.

It's only a matter of time.

And it will only take a burst of bravery and a dash of stupidity.

Then he'll be dead and gone.

And Dr. Albert will surely be her "attending physician" when that time comes.

 

Day 80

 

She thinks she would be used to his mood swings by now.

Her groggy brain clearly remembers him spooning her a couple of hours ago.

He did more than spooning.

He had been touchy, clingy, and all too lover-like. He even talked about STARS and Raccoon.

Wesker turned to an utter romantic after he got to thoroughly fuck her ass.

Then the pendulum swung to the other direction.

He didn't woke her with sensuous sex. He woke her by cranking up the drug supply on the pump.

The burning sensation on her chest roused her. And she roused with a pained scream.

She stares at him now, breathing ragged.

He looks angry and crazy.

"Head to the oil field." He says through grinding teeth.

Jill thinks she would follow even without the P30.

Who in their right mind would want to keep him company.

 

Day 10

 

_Welcome to Raccoon City._

_Home of Umbrella._

_Jill looked back when they passed the sign, waited for it disappear on the rearview mirror._

_"Where are you taking me?"_

_"Somewhere far and private."_

_"What? Are you out to murder me in that somewhere?"_

_She saw his lips twitch into a smile. There was even a crinkle along his eyes._

_He appeared different without the glasses. More laid-back and approachable._

_His hand found its way on the top of her knee._

_He was so warm and his intent was so obvious that her panties dampen upon his touch._

_She smiled to herself and spread her legs._

 

Day 20

Jill collapses.

Wesker carries her to his laboratory.

A migraine's driving her crazy.

She can only think of the fall. She can only blame the fall for whatever brain injury she had sustained.

The pressure bores on her skull. A freaking torture.

She winces, turns her head away from the hallway's lights. She buries her face on his shoulder, inhales all that leather on him.

Under the monster's scent, she smells the old him.

Her mind proceeds to bleed. Her memories resurface.

"Albert." She wraps her arms around his neck. "It hurts." She murmurs on his ear.

His hold around her coils tighter like he's hurting too.

 

Day 10

 

_She tried to push his hand away, tried to close her legs._

_But he forced his fingers in and out of her nonstop. His rhythm not tiring at all._

_Before she knew what was happening, she was pissing herself._

_It wasn't really piss. It was clear like water._

_Didn't smell like urine too. Didn't matter - she couldn't think straight._

_She was panting and shivering when he mercifully pulled over._

_Her seat was suddenly pushed back and then he was sliding between her wet thighs._

_Another orgasm ripped through her when he filled her up with his swollen length._

_For the rest of the night, they rutted like rabbits in his car._

 

Day 60

 

"Why did you attack Excella?"

"She tortured me more than once."

"You wanted to end her?"

"Yes."

"What stayed your hand?"

 _Nothing_.  _She simply didn't feel like killing Excella_.

"The probability that you won't be forgiving." Her mouth spits out.

The P30's efficient on extracting truths.

Jill couldn't lie under it, especially under a continuous supply of it.

Wesker lets out a sigh. He strides to where she's sitting.

It's the first time he bothers to enter her personal space since she slashed Excella's face.

He does next the unexpected, the unthinkable: He presses a kiss on the top of her head.

It's unfortunate that he's so forgiving of her. 

She's almost disappointed that this "love" will be his downfall.

 


	20. Chapter 20

 

Day 100

 

Seeing Chris slashes into her being like a bolt of lightning.

He has a new partner with him, beautiful and reliable.

It hurts to watch him, to observe him from afar, to  _not_  be the trusted partner by his side.

It hurts not to be a hero.

As she had predicted, Chris takes care of the Uroboros trap she left in town.

She decides then to give a dominant plagas sample to Irving.

An order no one has given her.

Her ear piece stayed quiet in the past night.

That early morning, her only order was: _"Return to me. Immediately."_

She plans to, with Chris Redfield furious and hot on her trail.

 

Day 30

 

"I hope you’re not going to take me up against the wall again."

"The bed looks comfortable." She pats the sheets. "Don't be a savage, Wesker."

He abandons the syringe he's preparing. She blinks and he's right on top of her.

Her wrists ache under his hand. Her throat burns under his hand.

She glares up at him.

He glares down at her.

His abnormal slitted eyes flare brighter. He bares his teeth.

His fingers tighten and she winces.

"I promise you one thing, Valentine."

His body lowers, lies perfectly along hers.

"You will never escape me."

He releases the hold on her throat.

His weight leaves her and promptly returns in the next breath she takes.

A needle slides under her skin as his lips slide over hers.

She feels something spread in her bloodstream.

It scares her when he gets off and studies her still body.

She fears the words that will leave his mouth.

"Rest."

Her eyes slide close.

"We will test it further tomorrow."

She hears him say before she fades away.

 

Day 100

 

"Listen. I'm gonna be alright." Her entire chest feels on fire, like it's swollen and the holes from the detached plate are all bleeding. "You two need to stop him."

"I can't just leave you here!" Chris pulls her close. Her body sags against him, desperate for rest.

"You have to!" She nearly cries. It hurts to breathe. "This is your only chance!"

Chris looks at her like she's out of her mind.

"If Wesker succeeds..."

 _"You will never escape me."_  His promise rings in her ears.

"You're the only one who can stop him." She tells Chris with enough conviction.

"Find Excella." She says slowly. "She has an attache case with her full of his serum. Inject him with it to induce an overdose. It will work like poison."

"How are you sure of this?" Sheva asks, skeptical.

"Trust me. I've seen him destroy himself for power."

 

Day 50

 

It's a side effect of the P30.

That. Or it's laced with aphrodisiac.

There's  _tingling_  all over her whenever she's left alone with nothing to do.

Her fingers squirm under the cotton panties to play with her swollen clit.

After a while, she sticks three digits into her wet cunt.

It's the moment he steps inside her sterile cell.

She sees him but doesn't stop.

He sees her but doesn't tell her to stop.

She continues to masturbate, allows her slick to ruin her underwear.

He walks closer to the bed where she's writhing on, watches her with slight disgust and open interest.

She finger-fucks herself until she breaks.

And when it's over, he touches her over the drenched panties.

He appears entranced as he cups her pussy and sneaks an eager finger inside.

Her back arches and she cries in pleasure.

It's just so different when it's done by him.

He leaves her alone after he brings her to another orgasm.

And he takes the white panties along with him.

 

Day 100

 

Jill uses a secret passage, boards the tanker before Chris and Sheva.

She finds Wesker just after he infects Excella with Uroboros.

"You did not finish them off." He accuses, disappointed.

"You know I won't be able to."

"And he can't kill you as well." He laughs to himself. "Very romantic." He grumbles, bitter.

"You've lost, Wesker. You can still surrender."

He sneers and turns with a magnum locked and loaded on her face.

"Have you forgotten, Jillian?"

The last strand of humanity in him disintegrates.

"When this world dies..."

"The only ones who will remain are _you and I_."

 

Day 70

 

"What is wrong?"

They stand in a lobby of another Mediterranean resort.

He tucks her hair behind her ear, cups her cheeks, tries to read her expression with his fake blue contacts.

She spent the entire flight throwing up.

She's so exhausted that she's depending on him for support.

She's angry and hungry.

"I'm not..." The sound of her own voice irritates her. "I'm not alright."

Her fingers reach for the clothed plate on her chest. Her supply feels low. That's probably the reason.

He catches her hand.

"What do you want?"

The world tilts for a minute. She staggers and clutches on his clothes.

He secures an arm around her waist, holds her close.

Jill leans on his shoulder, shakes, waits for the spinning to stop.

Through the slits of her teary eyes, she sees people pass them by.

Strangers with faces that reflect awe, curiosity, and jealousy.

"What do you need, Jillian?"

He whispers into her ear. Like a lover.

 

Day 100

 

He locks her inside the assault bomber, commands her to get it ready for launch.

When he stumbles back in, Chris and Sheva have already derailed his power.

He barks orders at her.

And they're in flight in no time.

She knows his pursuers are in the bomber with them.

"You can't beat them in that state." She points out.

"What will happen if you use this?" She asks from the captain seat, shows him a syringe filled with his precious Uroboros.

Their eyes meet.

He cries out in pain and punches a hole on the steel wall.

"It's your strongest virus." She reasons.

“This is a trick.” He spits out, snatches her throat in a death grip.

 _No_. She thinks. _This is the trick_.

“I don’t want you to die, Albert.” Tears roll down her cheeks. It’s easy to cry when you’re choking. 

He lets go and believes her lie. Jill holds his hand and leads him to his end.

He foolishly injects himself with a virus vulnerable to fire.

And she smartly crashes them on an active volcano.

As she had predicted, blind love will be his downfall.

 

Day 90

 

They restart the plate.

She's under strict observation for the entire day.

The dose feels weak but it holds well.

She does her duties: supervises testings for Uroboros, guards the growing army.

By nightfall, the plate is off again and she's trapped in bed with Wesker.

He wastes long minutes sucking her breasts, eating her out.

When he finally takes her, his thrusts remain gentle and shallow.

That night, he suffocates her with his intimacy.

 

Day - - -

 

The BSAA takes her in, welcomes her back with open arms.

Physicians surround her for the first twenty four hours of her freedom.

The wounds on her chest receive immediate attention.

With frowns, they inform her that she'll have permanent scars there.

She's alright with scars. She'll wear them with pride. They’re proof of her survival.

Later in the night, they come to her with deeper frowns carved on their faces.

Chris stands by the door, sporting a nauseated look.

She ignores the worry and waits for what they have to say.

"You are ten weeks along, Ms. Valentine."

"Almost eleven..."

 

* * *

 

They call the thing inside of her a  _fetus_.

Not an embryo. Not a monster.

A developing fetus.

They even have a picture. It's like a lime in size.

She can't be that far along.

Wesker confirmed she miscarried, before they paid a visit to his strange sister.

 _Did he lie?_ Of course he did.

So her betrayal can conclude with this.

Tick tock.

Her sanity stretches, thins and thins until it's almost nothing.

"We can remove it, of course. End this forced pregnancy."

Chris flinches by the door, like he's slapped.

Her eyes snap at the doctor hovering closest to her.

"You should have fucking remove it without telling me!"

She shouts and attacks them.

An animal unleashed.

 

* * *

 

They strap her on a hard mattress.

"Terminate it. She's carrying a BOW!"

They place her under glaring fluorescent.

"What if its removal causes a biohazard?"

They discuss her as if she's not there.

"Albert Wesker is dead. We can benefit from his legacy through that fetus."

"What if she dies during the operation?"

"What if she dies during the latter parts of the pregnancy?"

"What if she's infected? A carrier of a dormant virus?!"

Her throat itches to scream. She bites her lip until it bleeds.

 

* * *

 

The only one she can trust is Chris.

The only one who will trust her is Chris.

The only one she can  _trick_  is Chris.

He cuts her out of the leather straps without questions, embraces her and cries for her to forgive him.

She holds him loosely.

"I forgive you. But _please_... don't look for me this time."

"But—"

"I'm already dead, Chris."

"You've long mourned and buried me in the ground."

Under the cover of the night, she leaves the BSAA.

 

* * *

 

Day 001

 

Aleksa Wesker casually slips into the miserable place Jill calls life.

She tucks her in a private jet and whisks her away to her torture island.

"I suppose congratulations are in order."

"I didn't know that you were not aware of...  _your condition_."

"Are you keeping it?"

Jill scoffs at her.

"You didn't recover me _for me_... You recover me to recover  _a part of him_."

"Smart girl."

Aleksa clears a glass of champagne, inspects her lacquered nails with satisfaction.

"Let's hope this all goes well."

"You've been promoted to his lover and mother of his children."

"You are no longer his slave."

 

** End**

 


End file.
